 | Oedipus |  |
ACT. II.
SCENE I.
An open Gallery. A Royal Bed-Chamber being suppos'd behind.The Time, Night. Thunder, &c.
Hæmon, Alcander, Pyracmon.
Hæm.
Sure 'tis the end of all things! Fate has torn
The Lock of Time off, and his head is now
The gastly Ball of round Eternity!
Call you these Peals of Thunder, but the yawn
Of bellowing Clouds? By Jove, they seem to me
The World's last groans; and those vast sheets of Flame
Are its last Blaze! The Tapers of the Gods,
The Sun and Moon, run down like waxen-Globes;
The shooting Stars end all in purple Gellies,
And Chaos is at hand.
Pyr.
'Tis Midnight, yet there's not a Theban sleeps,
But such as ne're must wake. All crow'd about
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Help of the King; who, from the Battlement,
By the red Lightning's glare, descry'd afar,
Atones the angry Powers.
Thunder, &c.
Hæm.
Ha! Pyracmon, look;
Behold, Alcander, from yon' West of Heav'n,
The perfect Figures of a Man and Woman:
A Scepter bright with Gems in each right hand,
Their flowing Robes of dazling Purple made,
Distinctly yonder in that point they stand,
Just West; a bloody red stains all the place:
And see, their Faces are quite-hid in Clouds.
Pyr.
Clusters of Golden Stars hang o're their heads,
And seem so crouded, that they burst upon 'em:
All dart at once their baleful influence,
In leaking Fire.
Alc.
Long-bearded Comets stick,
Like flaming Porcupines, to their left sides,
As they would shoot their Quills into their hearts.
Hæm:
But see! the King, and Queen, and all the Court!
Did ever Day or Night shew ought like this?
[Thunders again. The Scene draws, and discovers the Prodigies.
Enter Oedipus, Jocasta, Euridice, Adrastus, all coming forward with amazement.
Oed.
Answer, you Pow'rs Divine; spare all this noise,
This rack of Heav'n, and speak your fatal pleasure.
Why breaks yon dark and dusky Orb away?
Why from the bleeding Womb of monstrous Night,
Burst forth such Miriads of abortive Stars?
Ha! my Jocasta, look! the Silver Moon!
A setling Crimson stains her beauteous Face!
She's all o're Blood! and look, behold again,
What mean the mistick Heavens, she journeys on?
A vast Eclipse darkens the labouring Planet:
Sound there, sound all our Instruments of War;
Clarions and Trumpets, Silver, Brass, and Iron,
And beat a thousand Drums to help her Labour.
Adr.
'Tis vain; you see the Prodigies continue;
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Oed.
Forbear, rash man.—Once more I ask your pleasure!
If that the glow-worm-light of Humane Reason
Might dare to offer at Immortal knowledge,
And cope with Gods, why all this storm of Nature?
Why do the Rocks split, and why rouls the Sea?
Why these Portents in Heav'n, and Plagues on Earth?
VVhy yon' Gygantick Forms, Ethereal Monsters?
Alas! is all this but to fright the Dwarfs
Which your own hands have made? Then be it so.
Or if the Fates resolve some Expiation
For murder'd Lajus; Hear me, hear me, Gods!
Hear me thus prostrate: Spare this groaning Land,
Save innocent Thebes, stop the Tyrant Death;
Do this, and lo I stand up an Oblation
To meet your swiftest and severest anger,
Shoot all at once, and strike me to the Center.
The Cloud draws that veil'd the heads of the Figures in the Skie, and shews 'em Crown'd, with the names of Oedipus and Jocasta written above in great Characters of Gold.
Adr.
Either I dream, and all my cooler senses
Are vanish'd with that Cloud that fleets away;
Or just above those two Majestick heads,
I see, I read distinctly in large gold,
Oedipus and Jocasta.
Alc.
I read the same.
Adr.
'Tis wonderful; yet ought not man to wade
Too far in the vast deep of Destiny.
[Thunder; and the Prodigies vanish.
Joc.
My Lord, my Oedipus, why gaze you now,
When the whole Heav'n is clear, as if the Gods
Had some new Monsters made? will you not turn,
And bless your People; who devour each word
You breathe.
Oed.
It shall be so.
Yes, I will dye, O Thebes, to save thee!
Draw from my heart my blood, with more content
Than e're I wore thy Crown. Yet, O, Jocasta!
By all the indearments of miraculous love,
By all our languishings, our fears
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On thy fair hand, upon thy breast I swear,
I cannot call to mind, from budding Childhood
To blooming youth, a Crime by me committed,
For which the awful Gods should doom my death.
Joc.
'Tis not you, my Lord,
But he who murder'd Lajus, frees the Land:
Were you, which is impossible, the man,
Perhaps my Ponyard first should drink your blood;
But you are innocent, as your Jocasta,
From Crimes like those. This made me violent
To save your life, which you unjust would lose:
Nor can you comprehend, with deepest thought,
The horrid Agony you cast me in,
When you resolv'd to dye.
Oed.
Is't possible?
Joc.
Alas! why start you so? Her stiff'ning grief,
Who saw her Children slaughter'd all at once,
Was dull to mine: Methinks I should have made
My bosom bare against the armed God,
To save my Oedipus!
Oed.
I pray, no more.
Joc.
Yo've silenc'd me, my Lord.
Oed.
Pardon me, dear Jocasta;
Pardon a heart that sinks with sufferings,
And can but vent it self in sobs and murmurs:
Yet to restore my peace, I'll find him out.
Yes, yes, you Gods! you shall have ample vengeance
On Lajus murderer. O, the Traytor's name!
I'll know't, I will; Art shall be Conjur'd for it,
And Nature all unravel'd.
Joc.
Sacred Sir,—
Oed.
Rage will have way, and 'tis but just; I'll fetch him,
Tho' lodg'd in Air, upon a Dragon's wing,
Tho' Rocks should hide him: nay, he shall be dragg'd
From Hell, if Charms can hurry him along:
His Ghost shall be, by sage Tiresias pow'r,
(Tiresias, that rules all beneath the Moon)
Confin'd to flesh, to suffer death once more;
And then be plung'd in his first fires again.
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Cre.
My Lord,
Tiresias attends your pleasure.
Oed.
Haste, and bring him in.
O, my Jocasta, Euridice, Adrastus,
Creon, and all ye Thebans, now the end
Of Plagues, of Madness, Murders, Prodigies,
Draws on: This Battel of the Heav'ns and Earth
Shall by his wisdom be reduc'd to peace.
Enter Tiresias, leaning on a staff, led by his Daughter Manto, follow'd by other Thebans.
O thou, whose most aspiring mind
Know'st all the business of the Courts above,
Open'st the Closets of the Gods, and dares
To mix with Jove himself and Fate at Council;
O Prophet, answer me, declare aloud
The Traytor who conspir'd the death of Lajus:
Or be they more, who from malignant Stars
Have drawn this Plague that blasts unhappy Thebes.
Tir.
We must no more than Fate commissions us
To tell; yet something, and of moment, I'll unfold,
If that the God would wake; I feel him now,
Like a strong Spirit Charm'd into a Tree,
That leaps, and moves the Wood without a Wind:
The rouz'd God, as all this while he lay
Intomb'd alive, starts and dilates himself;
He struggles, and he tears my aged Trunk
With holy Fury, my old Arteries burst,
My rivel'd skin,
Like Parchment, crackles at the hallow'd fire;
I shall be young again: Manto, my Daughter,
Thou hast a voice that might have sav'd the Bard
Of Thrace, and forc'd the raging Bacchanals,
With lifted Prongs, to listen to thy airs:
O Charm this God, this Fury in my bosom,
Lull him with tuneful notes, and artful strings,
With pow'rful strains; Manto, my lovely Child,
Sooth the unruly God-head to be mild.
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SONG to Apollo.
Phœbus, God belov'd by men;
At thy dawn, every Beast is rouz'd in his Den;
At thy setting, all the Birds of thy absence complain,
And we dye, all dye till the morning comes again,
Phœbus, God belov'd by men!
Idol of the Eastern Kings,
Awful as the God who flings
His Thunder round, and the Lightning wings;
God of Songs, and Orphean strings,
Who to this mortal bosom brings,
All harmonious heav'nly things!
Thy drouzie Prophet to revive,
Ten thousand thousand forms before him drive;
With Chariots and Horses all o' fire awake him,
Convulsions, and Furies, and Prophesies shake him:
Let him tell it in groans, tho' he bend with the load,
Tho' he burst with the weight of the terrible God.
Tir.
The wretch, who shed the blood of old Labdacides,
Lives, and is great;
But cruel greatness ne're was long:
The first of Lajus blood his life did seize,
And urg'd his Fate,
Which else had lasting been and strong.
The wretch, who Lajus kill'd, must bleed or fly;
Or Thebes, consum'd with Plagues, in ruines lye.
Oed.
The first of Lajus blood! pronounce the person,
May the God roar from thy prophetick mouth,
That even the dead may start up, to behold:
Name him, I say, that most accursed wretch,
For by the Stars he dies:
Speak, I command thee;
By Phœbus, speak; for sudden death's his doom:
Here shall he fall, bleed on this very spot;
His name, I charge the once more, speak.
Tir.
'Tis lost,
Like what we think can never shun remembrance;
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Oed.
Fetch it from thence, I'll have't, where e're it be
Cre.
Let me intreat you, sacred Sir, be calm,
And Creon shall point out the great Offendor.
'Tis true, respect of Nature might injoin
Me silence, at another time; but, oh,
Much more the pow'r of my eternal Love!
That, that should strike me dumb: yet Thebes, my Country—
I'll break through all, to succour thee, poor City!
O, I must speak.
Oed.
Speak then, if ought thou know'st:
As much thou seem'st to know, delay no longer.
Cre.
O Beauty! O illustrious Royal Maid!
To whom my Vows were ever paid till now,
And with such modest, chaste, and pure affection,
The coldest Nymph might read 'em without blushing;
Art thou the Murdress then of wretched Lajus?
And I, must I accuse thee! O my tears!
Why will you fall in so abhorr'd a Cause?
But that thy beauteous, barbarous, hand destroy'd
Thy Father (O monstrous act!) both Gods
And men at once take notice.
Oed.
Euridice!
Eur.
Traytor, go on; I scorn thy little malice,
And knowing more my perfect innocence,
Than Gods and men, then how much more than thee,
Who art their opposite, and form'd a Lyar,
I thus disdain thee! Thou once didst talk of Love;
Because I hate thy love,
Thou dost accuse me.
Adr.
Villain, inglorious Villain,
And Traytor, double damn'd, who dur'st blaspheme
The spotless virtue of the brightest beauty;
Thou dy'st: nor shall the sacred Majesty,
[Draws and wounds him.
That guards this place, preserve thee from my rage.
Oed.
Disarm 'em both: Prince, I shall make you know
That I can tame you twice. Guards, seize him.
Adr.
Sir,
I must acknowledge in another Cause
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In this, and smile to see the Traytor's blood.
Oed.
Creon, you shall be satisfy'd at full.
Cre.
My hurt is nothing, Sir; but I appeal
To wise Tiresias, if my accusation
Be not most true. The first of Lajus blood
Gave him his death. Is there a Prince before her?
Then she is faultless, and I ask her pardon.
And may this blood ne're cease to drop, O Thebes,
If pity of thy sufferings did not move me
To shew the Cure which Heav'n it self prescrib'd.
Eur.
Yes, Thebans, I will dye to save your lives,
More willingly than you can wish my fate;
But let this good, this wise, this holy man,
Pronounce my Sentence: for to fall by him,
By the vile breath of that prodigious Villain,
Would sink my Soul, tho' I should dye a Martyr.
Adr.
Unhand me, slaves. O mightiest of Kings,
See at your feet a Prince not us'd to kneel;
Touch not Euridice, by all the Gods,
As you would save your Thebes, but take my life:
For, should she perish, Heav'n would heap plagues on plagues,
Rain Sulphur down, hurl kindled bolts
Upon your guilty heads.
Cre.
You turn to gallantry, what is but justice:
Proof will be easie made. Adrastus was
The Robber who bereft th'unhappy King
Of life; because he flatly had deny'd
To make so poor a Prince his Son-in-law:
Therefore 'twere fit that both should perish.
1 Theb.
Both, let both dye.
All Theb.
Both, both; let 'em dye.
Oed.
Hence, you wild herd! For your Ring-leader here,
He shall be made Example. Hæmon, take him.
1 Theb.
Mercy, O mercy.
Oed.
Mutiny in my presence!
Hence, let me see that busie face no more.
Tir.
Thebans, what madness makes you drunk with rage?
Enough of guilty death's already acted:
Fierce Creon has accus'd Euridice,
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By inward checks, and leaves their Fates in doubt.
Oed.
Therefore instruct us what remains to do,
Or suffer; for I feel a sleep like death
Upon me, and I sigh to be at rest.
Tir.
Since that the pow'rs divine refuse to clear
The mystic deed, I'll to the Grove of Furies;
There I can force th'Infernal Gods to shew
Their horrid Forms;
Each trembling Ghost shall rise,
And leave their grizly King without a waiter:
For Prince Adrastus and Euridice,
My life's engag'd, I'll guard 'em in the Fane,
Till the dark mysteries of Hell are done.
Follow me, Princes; Thebans, all to rest.
O, Oedipus, to morrow—but no more.
If that thy wakeful Genius will permit,
Indulge thy brain this night with softer slumbers:
To morrow, O to morrow!—sleep, my Son;
And in prophetick dreams thy Fate be shown.
[Ex. Tires. Adrast. Eurid. Manto, Thebans.
Manent Oed. Joc. Creon, Pyrac. Hæm. Alcan.
Oed.
To bed, my Fair, my Dear, my best Jocasta.
After the toils of war, 'tis wondrous strange
Our loves should thus be dash'd. One moment's thought,
And I'll approach the arms of my belov'd.
Joc.
Consume whole years in care, so now and then
I may have leave to feed my famish'd eyes
With one short passing glance, and sigh my vows:
This, and no more, my Lord, is all the passion
Of languishing Jocasta.
[Exit.
Oed.
Thou softest, sweetest of the World! good night.
Nay, she is beauteous too; yet, mighty Love!
I never offer'd to obey thy Laws,
But an unusual chillness came upon me;
An unknown hand still check'd my forward joy,
Dash'd me with blushes, tho' no light was near:
That ev'n the Act became a violation.
Pyr.
He's strangely thoughtful.
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Hark! who was that? Ha! Creon, did'st thou call me?
Cre.
Not I, my gracious Lord, nor any here.
Oed.
That's strange! methought I heard a doleful voice
Cry'd Oedipus.—The Prophet bad me sleep;
He talk'd of Dreams, and Visions, and to morrow!
I'll muse no more on't, come what will or can,
My thoughts are clearer than unclouded Stars;
And with those thoughts I'll rest: Creon, good night.
[Ex. with Hæmon.
Cre.
Sleep seal your eyes, Sir, Eternal sleep.
But if he must sleep and wake again, O all
Tormenting Dreams, wild horrours of the night,
And Hags of Fancy wing him through the air:
From precipices hurl him headlong down;
Charybdis roar, and death be set before him.
Alc.
Your Curses have already ta'ne effect;
For he looks very sad.
Cre.
May he be rooted, where he stands, for ever;
His eye balls never move, brows be unbent,
His blood, his Entrails, Liver, heart and bowels,
Be blacker than the place I wish him, Hell.
Pyr.
No more: you tear your self, but vex not him.
Methinks 'twere brave this night to force the Temple,
While blind Tiresias conjures up the Fiends,
And pass the time with nice Eurydice.
Alc.
Try promises, and threats, and if all fail,
Since Hell's broke loose, why should not you be mad?
Ravish, and leave her dead, with her Adrastus.
Cre.
Were the Globe mine, I'd give a Province hourly
For such another thought. Lust, and revenge!
To stab at once the only man I hate,
And to enjoy the woman whom I love!
I ask no more of my auspicious Stars,
The rest as Fortune please; so but this night
She play me fair, why, let her turn for ever.
Enter Hæmon.
Hæm.
My Lord, the troubled King is gone to rest;
Yet, e're he slept, commanded me to clear
The Antichambers: none must dare be near him
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Hæmon, you do your duty;—
[Thunder.
And we obey.—The night grows yet more dreadful!
'Tis just that all retire to their devotions;
The Gods are angry: but to morrow's dawn,
If Prophets do not lye, will make all clear.
[As they go off.
Oedipus Enters, walking asleep in his shirt, with a Dagger in his right hand, and a Taper in his left.
Oed.
O, my Jocasta! 'tis for this the wet
Starv'd Soldier lies all night on the cold ground;
For this he bears the storms
Of Winter Camps, and freezes in his Arms:
To be thus circled, to be thus embrac'd;
That I could hold thee ever!—Ha! where art thou?
What means this melancholly light, that seems
The gloom of glowing embers?
The Curtain's drawn; and see, she's here again!
Jocasta? Ha! what, fall'n asleep so soon?
How fares my love? this Taper will inform me.
Ha! Lightning blast me, Thunder
Rivet me ever to Prometheus Rock,
And Vultures gnaw out my Incestuous heart,
By all the Gods! my Mother Merope!
My Sword, a Dagger; Ha, who waits there? slaves,
My Sword: what, Hæmon, dar'st thou, Villain, stop me?
With thy own Ponyard perish. Ha! who's this?
Or is't a change of Death? By all my Honors,
New murder; thou hast slain old Polybus:
Incest and parricide, thy Father's murder'd!
Out thou infernal flame: now all is dark,
All blind and dismal, most triumphant mischief!
And now while thus I stalk about the room,
I challenge Fate to find another wretch
Like Oedipus!
[Thunder, &c.
Enter Jocasta attended, with Lights, in a Night-gown.
Oed.
Night, Horrour, Death, Confusion, Hell, and Furies!
Where am I? O, Jocasta, let me hold thee,
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All that the hardest temper'd weather'd flesh,
With fiercest humane Spirit inspir'd, can dare
Or do, I dare; but, oh you Pow'rs, this was
By infinite degrees too much for man.
Methinks my deafn'd ears
Are burst; my eyes, as if they had been knock'd
By some tempestuous hand, shoot flashing fire:
That sleep should do this!
Joc.
Then my fears were true.
Methought I heard your voice, and yet I doubted,
Now roaring like the Ocean, when the winds
Fight with the waves; now, in a still small tone
Your dying accents fell, as racking ships,
After the dreadful yell, sink murmuring down,
And bubble up a noise.
Oed.
Trust me, thou Fairest, best of all thy Kind,
None e're in Dreams was tortur'd so before,
Yet what most shocks the niceness of my temper,
Ev'n far beyond the killing of my Father,
And my own death, is, that this horrid sleep
Dash'd my sick fancy with an act of Incest:
I dreamt, Jocasta, that thou wert my Mother;
Which, tho' impossible, so damps my Spirits,
That I cou'd do a mischief on my self,
Lest I should sleep and Dream the like again.
Joc.
O, Oedipus, too well I understand you!
I know the wrath of Heav'n, the care of Thebes,
The cries of its Inhabitants, war's toils,
And thousand other labours of the State,
Are all referr'd to you, and ought to take you
For ever from Jocasta.
Oed.
Life of my life, and treasure of my Soul,
Heav'n knows I love thee.
Joc.
O, you think me vile,
And of an inclination so ignoble,
That I must hide me from your eyes for ever.
Be witness, Gods, and strike Jocasta dead,
If an immodest thought, or low desire
Inflam'd my breast, since first our Loves were lighted.
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O rise, and add not, by thy cruel kindness,
A grief more sensible than all my torments.
Thou think'st my dreams are forg'd; but by thy self,
The greatest Oath, I swear, they are most true:
But, be they what they will, I here dismiss 'em;
Begon, Chimeras, to your Mother Clouds,
Is there a fault in us? Have we not search'd
The womb of Heav'n, examin'd all the Entrails
Of Birds and Beasts, and tir'd the Prophets Art.
Yet what avails? he, and the Gods together,
Seem like Physicians at a loss to help us:
Therefore, like wretches that have linger'd long,
Wee'll snatch the strongest Cordial of our love;
To bed, my Fair.
Ghost
within.
Oedipus!
Oed.
Ha! who calls?
Did'st thou not hear a voice?
Joc.
Alas! I did.
Ghost.
Jocasta!
Joc.
O my love, my Lord, support me!
Oed.
Call louder, till you burst your aiery Forms:
Rest on my hand. Thus, arm'd with innocence,
I'll face these babling Dæmons of the air.
In spight of Ghosts, I'll on,
Tho' round my Bed the Furies plant their Charms;
I'll break 'em, with Jocasta in my arms:
Clasp'd in the folds of love, I'll wait my doom;
And act my joys, tho' Thunder shake the room.
[Exeunt.
| Oedipus | |